


Moonlight

by theboywantscoffee



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Child Five Hargreeves, Friendship, Hurt Number Five | The Boy, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Number Five | The Boy-centric, dolores is a queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28823481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboywantscoffee/pseuds/theboywantscoffee
Summary: "Can you play Clair de Lune? It’s my favorite."A scoff leaves Five’s lips and he rolls his eyes as he turns back to the piano. “I said a little bit, Dolores. The Entertainer. Canon in D. That sort of stuff.” His finger taps lightly atop the key, but still not hard enough to make a sound. “Vanya was the musical one,” he adds quietly.--In which Five finds a piano in the apocalypse.
Relationships: Dolores/Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Started this fic a few months ago and was finally inspired to finish it when I saw this fanart.

It’s on day one hundred and seventy four that Five finds it.

He’s scavenging an unexplored portion of the city for food when he stumbles upon a relatively intact grand piano inside the remnants of a hotel lobby. The interior of the lobby itself is in surprisingly good condition, somehow, and even the bar nearby has some intact decanters filled with clear liquor. Five stashes them into his wagon first (he has yet to come by rubbing alcohol in any of the still standing pharmacies) and then approaches the instrument. 

Dim light oozes in from the shattered skylights above and the dirt and dust he blows off the key cover blooms into a cloud suspended midair. His nose wrinkles. He lifts the cover open and runs his fingers along the tops of the black and white keys, though not hard enough to play any actual notes.

_Do you know how to play?_

Five turns to look at Dolores surrounded by his bottles of pilfered booze. Her ever present smile is a welcomed quell to the wave of nerves carried constantly in his chest these days. “Yeah, a little bit,” he answers, his finger hovering over a B flat. 

_Can you play Clair de Lune? It’s my favorite._

A scoff leaves Five’s lips and he rolls his eyes as he turns back to the piano. “I said a _little_ bit, Dolores. The Entertainer. Canon in D. That sort of stuff.” His finger taps lightly atop the key, but still not hard enough to make a sound. “Vanya was the musical one,” he adds quietly. 

Dolores doesn’t answer and Five doesn’t elaborate. He inhales, presses the key down, and flinches at the out of tune note that reverberates from the piano and throughout the lobby much louder than he anticipated. It’s unsettling how out of place the note sounds in a world that has only offered Five the skittering of roaches and rats, the ferocious howling of wind, and his own very small voice.

The note eventually dies out and Five lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s holding. He shifts his gaze towards the piano bench and lifts it open, moving his feet out of the way as dirt slides off it and onto the ground. There are a few books within the bench and he rifles through the first two to find all of the sheet music far too complicated to even attempt to play. He remembers from his music studies how to read the notes and time and key signatures, but not _that_ well.

He lets the bench fall shut and comes around to sit on it, shifting side to side until he’s comfortable. His hands hover over the keys and his foot reaches for a pedal that’s missing, a feature that makes his lips press together in annoyance. Dolores watches curiously from a few feet away. Five exhales a soft sigh and starts to play.

He only knows the first movement of _Moonlight Sonata_. He hits a few wrong notes and stumbles over some awkward hand positions, but he fairs a lot better than he anticipates after over half a year of not playing. Learning to play an instrument was never something Five opted to do on his own volition but was rather forced into by their father’s demands. Vanya had been thrilled by the notion, however, and insisted he learn this song in particular once he got good enough to. 

“It’s my favorite song,” she had said, flicking through his sheet music with a rare and wide smile. “And we can play it together! Maybe one day for Mom and Dad, if we practice enough.”

Five jumps to the future before they can ever perform it together. 

When he finishes the piece he waits for the very last lingering remnants of his final note to dissipate into the air around them before dropping his hands to his lap. He swallows a hard swallow and becomes painfully aware of how he can feel his heart beating in his throat.

 _That was beautiful_ , Dolores comments from behind him. 

Five doesn’t turn to look at her and instead nods mutely in response. His eyes are suddenly hot and wet and the moisture balances precariously on his eyelids, threatening to spill over at any moment. He breathes in and out through his nose and his shoulders rise and fall in an erratic manner with his unsteady attempts for air. He can’t speak, not now, not when he knows if he even tries to answer Dolores that his words will dissolve into sobs.

He can’t afford to cry anymore, not when his energy needs to be focused towards survival. Not when coming by potable water is so rare that losing any hydration through tears is a foolish wish for death. 

_Maybe we can come back tomorrow. I’d like to hear you play more,_ Dolores chimes in after a few minutes. Her voice is soft and placating. _Perhaps we can even find another instrument and I can join you, though I’m not sure what I can play other than a maraca or a tambourine_ , she adds with a twist of humor. 

Five finds the corners of his lips working upwards just the slightest and he makes a small noise akin to a laugh but not quite. He doesn’t know how she does it, but Dolores can always pull him up and out from any darkness that tries to swallow him whole.

“Okay.”

\---

Five starts visiting the lobby with Dolores regularly when he has energy to tinker around with the piano. The initial unease it gave him to hear it the first day quickly dies out and instead the notes humming in the air around him start to settle any unease lingering in his chest. The sounds of the keys being struck is soft and familiar. They’re tangible proof of what was before. That there _was_ a before. 

He starts off by refreshing himself with songs that he has loosely memorized. There are many blunders along the way but Dolores encourages him to keep trying and insists that she has never anyone play the piano so wonderfully. 

“And how many people have you heard play before me, exactly?” he challenges her one day after getting particularly irate with himself for struggling to recall _Fur Elise_ without sheet music. 

_None_ , she admits. She’s seated atop the piano and he scowls up at her. _But it doesn’t make your playing any less enjoyable._

Five’s frown remains in place despite the warmth he feels spreading across his cheeks. “Well I’m done for today.” He pulls the fallboard over the keys and rises from the bench. “Besides, we need to get back before it gets dark.”

\---

They find a music shop one day and much to Dolores’ excitement, it isn’t completely burnt down.

Five is able to push the front door open just enough to squeeze his narrow frame through the gap. A large piece of concrete prevents him from getting it any further open and he frowns at Dolores through the cracked glass of the front window display. 

“You’ll have to wait out there. I’ll only be a few minutes,” he promises her. 

_I won’t go anywhere._

There isn’t much left of the shop. He finds the sad remnants of brass and woodwind instruments that have been scorched and melted beyond use. String instruments are charred and splintered and the two grand pianos in the center of the floor are smashed by a collapsed beam. He steps on the remains of a plastic recorder by accident and it snaps beneath his foot.

He nearly gives up hope on finding anything useful when he lifts a fallen piece of drywall that reveals a bookshelf that has collapsed on its side. Five’s eyes widen and he readily falls to his knees, grunting with effort as he struggles to lift it. He manages to get it at least flipped over onto its back to reveal the spines and covers of crinkled music books greeting him. They’re dirty and some are folded with pages torn, but for the most part they’re all relatively intact. Through his huffs and puffs of effort, Five grins.

“You were right Dolores,” he calls out, sitting up to glance over and see her still smiling at him through the window. “There’s books of sheet music and loads them.” He starts shuffling through them and putting aside any that are geared towards the piano. 

Chopin. Beethoven. Schubert. He finds what seems like an endless amount of books filled with the works of classical artists but then also many books with music from very vaguely familiar titles. Legend of Zelda. Final Fantasy. There’s one with music from the Harry Potter films and Five has to sit and consciously regulate his breathing for a few minutes before he can move on from it.

Ben loved reading Harry Potter. 

He’s nearly through the stack of works when he finds a collection of pieces by Debussy. Five searches the table of contents and one title in particular catches his eye.

 _Clair de Lune_ \- page 23.

He leafs through the wrinkled pages and finds it. The piece doesn’t look _too_ difficult but it will definitely require some practice.

Unluckily for Five, he has all the time in the world.

\---

Five starts leaving Dolores behind when he goes to practice. He lies to her and tells her he is going to search in areas that are too risky to bring her along in and promises he’ll be back before dark. He smuggles the sheet music out of their camp in his backpack and makes his way to the hotel. 

Five finds it’s harder to practice without Dolores’s motivation. He gets impatient with himself quickly and is soon scrubbing at his forehead and tugging at his hair in frustration more often than he’d like. The lack of sufficient daily calories doesn’t help his mood either. Dolores is anything but unobservant and she makes a comment towards him when he comes back from his ‘scavenging’ one day empty handed and moody. 

_You're wasting your energy going out like this when you know there are resources closer by,_ she says disapprovingly. _You’re running low on food._

“No shit, you think I don’t know that?” Five snaps at her, tearing his bag off his back and tossing it onto the ground. He flings himself onto the yard chair across from her, leans back in it, and stares up at the brown, hazy sky. His stomach clenches and aches as it always does nowadays. He feels groggy and irritable. 

_Tomorrow we should go to that bodega on Delafield Street. We weren’t able to bring all the cans back last time._

Dolores is only trying to help, he realizes, and he feels guilt coiling in his chest for being so curt with her. Apologizing has never been his strong suit, however, so instead he closes his eyes and offers her an olive branch of, “You’re right. We’ll go in the morning.”

\---

Winter comes in fast and hard and Five has to put a halt on his routine visits to the hotel piano.

 _I know this is awful, but it will end eventually,_ Dolores says from beside him. He sits within a few feet of the fire before them with every layer he has adorned upon his body and every blanket wrapped around his small and withering frame. Five doesn’t need a mirror to know how gaunt he looks these days. He can feel it when he wipes at his eyes tiredly or when he rubs at his hollow cheeks in attempts to warm them. 

“... still another month of this at least,” he mumbles, never tearing his gaze from the flames. He’s too exhausted to be irate. Evidently apocalyptic winter is both a lot more tumultuous and a lot colder than regular winter, and he foolishly did not stockpile enough reserves to get by even remotely comfortably. Day after day snow continues to climb up the walls outside of the library and leave them trapped inside. The food he has left is rationed by the bite. Five can’t even bring himself to work on his equations most days. He balances his time between sleeping and keeping the fire alive. 

He’s starving to death and he knows it. 

Neither of them say it, but they both are very aware of the fact that not making it to spring is a real possibility. 

_A month isn’t all that long_ , she tries to assure him. _Rest and I’ll keep an eye on the fire. I’ll wake you when it’s time for dinner._

Five doesn’t answer. His eyelids close and he falls asleep a little too quickly. 

\---

Somehow, by some fucking _miracle_ , spring comes and they’re both still there. 

The first thing he does is go to a gas station a few blocks over. The journey over is long, excruciatingly so, and Five isn’t sure he’ll make it the whole way, but he does. Within its dilapidated remains he finds an intact jar of peanut butter, eight cans of various legumes and vegetables, a can of tuna, and a jar of pickles.

It all quite literally saves his life. 

Next winter he will do better. 

\---

Five learns to start delegating his time and energy properly. 

He still squeezes in visits to the hotel lobby but not nearly as often as he did before. Instead he focuses more on his equations and hoarding his resources better so that _that_ winter doesn’t happen again. He raids every somewhat intact building he can find and takes any and everything that may be of use to him. Matches. Peroxide. Medications. Any foods he can find, regardless of their expiration dates. Cotton balls. Blankets. Cushions. He needs to insulate things better next year and he isn’t going to wait until the last minute to dedicate his energy towards that. 

When he does put aside time to practice the piano, he does it with much more commitment than before. Dolores still remains ignorant to his musical endeavors and he prefers it that way. 

\---

_Can’t we go back to the hotel? I miss hearing the music._

“We don’t have time for that,” Five lies, never tearing his gaze away from the textbook he is poured over. “We need to get back, Dolores - _I_ need to get back. Figuring this out is more important than anything else right now.”

Dolores doesn’t answer. She usually doesn’t when she knows Five is right. 

\---

He nearly has it. He just needs to practice one part in particular to get the fingering down just right, and then he’ll be ready to play for her.

For the first time in a long time, Five feels excited about something. 

\---

“You need something nicer to wear for tomorrow.”

_Why? So I can sit here and look pretty while you do math all day again?_

“No. We’re going out.”

_Out? Where, to a movie? Mini golf with friends?_

“You know Dolores, I could really deal _without_ the sarcasm most days. It’s a surprise, alright? Now I’m going to see what’s left in that department store over on South Street. Anything you’d like in particular?”

_Oh, you know me. Sequins are a girl’s best friend._

\---

Five pulls the wagon in tow along the sidewalk and Dolores sits unusually quiet in her spot as he totes her along. She’s clad in a red v-neck blouse with three quarter sleeves that is covered in red sequins and her smile is wider than ever. It’s only when the hotel comes into sight that she perks up.

 _You’re going to play again_ , she states. _And here I thought you had forgotten all about this._

“Really? When you bring it up eighty times a week?” 

She laughs at that. _Fair point. So is this where you’ve been sneaking off to? You know I figured you weren’t going to look for supplies when you came back empty handed each time._

“Didn’t think you were paying attention.”

_Darling, all I’ve got to do around here is pay attention to things._

Five’s eyebrows shoot up as he considers this and he bobs his head in agreement. “Fair point.”

They arrive at the hotel and Five takes Dolores from the wagon and perches her atop the piano like he always did before. She doesn’t speak but he can feel the excitement radiating off of her as he flips open the key lid and presses at a few keys to test them. 

“You know it’s been a year to the day since I found you,” he comments, green eyes flicking up at her briefly and then to the music book as he flips it open to the right page. 

_I know,_ Dolores answers. 

Five sets the sheet music down, making sure the page is secured and won’t flip over on its own, adjusts himself on the bench, and lays his fingers overtop the keys. He isn’t nervous, much to his surprise.

Dolores tends to have that effect on him. 

“Well, I guess this is a thank you,” he continues, his words soft and earnest. “For everything.”

And with that he focuses on the first staff of the piece and plays _Clair de Lune_ for her. 


End file.
